


let's start with honesty (the lies will happen later)

by ashen_key



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Background Pairing, Family, Gen, Kid Fic, Motherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:52:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashen_key/pseuds/ashen_key
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha studies her day-old son, and she's never been more terrified.</p><p>“I need to tell you something, little man,” she says. "I'm not going to be a very good mother."</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's start with honesty (the lies will happen later)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was going to be the end section of a "five conversations Natasha had while pregnant" fic. That fic never really got off the ground, and so I've turned this into its own ficlet.

John Roman Barton looks not unlike an alien, which is apparently normal. An eight-pound alien who hasn't grown into his skin yet, all flailing limbs and wrinkles and strange little noises. Natasha gently traces his check with the tip of her finger, studying her son as if he will make sense.

He yawns, enigmatic, and she feels briefly sympathetic to anyone who has had to deal with her. Then he turns his head, trying to look around. Curiosity. She can understand this, and she can feel herself smiling back at him. 

“You can't get anywhere,” Natasha informs the infant. “You can only look right now.”

John gurgles, scrubs his face, ignores her. 

Strange little being. 

He's easier to take in now that it's just her and him – no nurses, Clint kicked out to have some coffee and fresh air (and/or a cigarette; as long as she doesn't have to smell it, she doesn't give a damn), the drugs from her caesarian section fading out of her system. Easier to take in, and so much harder. 

Natasha studies her day-old son, and she's never been more terrified. 

“I need to tell you something, little man,” she says in soft Russian. It's a deliberate choice of language; Russian might be _Red Room_ and the Motherland she exiled herself from, but it's also the language of her sisters, of her parents. Just because that family is mostly dead doesn't mean, _shouldn't_ mean, that it can't be the language she uses with her own child.

Natasha takes a deep breath, and continues. “I'm not going to be a very good mother,” she tells John ( _Vanya_ , maybe – she hasn't decided. He can be John for now). “I'm too damaged, and I'm going to miss things. Important things. I'm not going to be there for all your birthdays. I'm going to miss graduations and soccer games because I'll be off trying to keep the world safe. I'd say I'll be doing it all for you, but I don't want to start lying to you just yet. I owe debts, and I hope you _never_ understand what this means. 

But I am going to try. I am going to try and be as good a mother as I can, and I'm going to try and come home to you. I promise.” She presses a soft kiss to his head, shutting her eyes and just breathing him in.

“And if anyone hurts you?” Natasha adds, her words a whisper so that none can hear them but him, “I will tear them apart.”


End file.
